Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte
My omega, he had called her, the words twisting through her head as she mechanically begins packing her things into her backpack and reusable grocery bags.
She carefully folds and tucks each precious piece of her nest into the bags, followed by her paltry wardrobe and the toiletries they'd bought her. All of which fit into two small bags.
Does this mean he wasn't getting rid of her? Was he taking her somewhere? Back to his house with Silas and Alex? She feels a tiny ember of hope in her chest, holding onto it amidst the swarm of anxious thoughts buzzing around her head.
The sight of her nest packed away into grocery bags has Tomas clenching his jaw so hard she thinks he might break a tooth, and she ducks her head in response, trying to gather them all up in her arms quickly.
He growls at her until she drops the bags, her tears catching in her throat in a sob as she bares her neck to him submissively in response. Her instincts scream at her to appease the alpha whose anger is filling the air with big blaring warning signs that screamed danger.
None of them had ever growled at her in anger, had never been genuinely upset with her, other than that one time on their first date. But that had been more stern disappointment than anything. This was... different.
She felt as if she were walking on broken glass, as if the slightest provocation might cause him to lash out and do... what? He wasn't going to hurt her. She knew that. But the threat was there all the same.
He takes the bags from where she'd dropped them on the floor as if they weigh nothing, carrying them out of the apartment and wordlessly waiting for her to follow him.
She trots behind him, hands wringing nervously as she tries desperately to reign in the little sniffle in her nose as the tears start to dry, terrified to draw attention to herself now.
He locks the door behind him and walks them back down the stairwell to where his car is parked on the street, somehow with all its wheels and hubcaps still attached.
Even despite the bags in his arms, he keeps one arm hovering around her, as if ready to catch her if she falls.
She's steadier, though. His presence a boon even despite his anger.
He puts her things in the back seat and then opens the passenger door for her, still without a word, and she gets in silently.
They don't speak on the whole drive back to the brownstone. Charlotte sniffles a few times, tears burning at her eyes that she refuses to let fall while guilt roils in her gut. The need to make this right is overpowering, a living thing inside her clawing at her until she fixes it.
She jumps when he pulls the car to a screeching stop outside the brownstone, not even having noticed the drive because she's been so lost in her own head. He once again gathers her bags in one arm and herds her up the stairs with the other, his face still impassive and forbidding.
When he slams the door behind them, she jumps.
Both Alex and Silas are waiting for them in the front foyer, concern on their faces as they take in the sight of her in her light pink babydoll tee with the ruffly hem and black leggings that she wears as a work uniform, then to the bags in Tomas' hand.
Tomas speaks before any of the rest of them can get a word in.
"Were you aware that Charlotte was living in a condemned building in Kingsborough?" Tomas' voice is hard and accusing as he looks between his pack brothers.
Both men raise their eyebrows in surprise, eyes flicking to Charlotte as their lips turn down even further with concern.
"What part of Kingsborough? Some of the neighbourhoods around the edges are gentrifying. We just invested in one development–" Silas’ voice is calm, as if trying to diffuse the situation that he can clearly see brewing.
"The liquor store across the street had bullet proof glass." Tomas' mouth is a thin, hard line, and she sees Silas look to her with something like betrayal in his eyes.
"Why did you not tell us you needed more help, Charlotte?" If even Silas is using her first name, she knows she's in trouble.
"I've been saving up to move to a better place. A-And I-I didn't want you to think I was just trying to use you for your money." There's a little quiver in her lower lip that she can't hold back, even as the tears start threatening to spill again.
Tomas seems not to want to respond to her comment about money, and she cannot blame them. They all know what this was.
His voice is still hard when he speaks, although his words send a flush of flustered warmth through her, that ember of hope fanning itself into a tiny flame. "This has been an oversight, one which we will not allow to happen again. You are our responsibility, Charlotte."
When she looks like she's going to respond, he snaps. "This is not a negotiation. Go up to my bedroom, remove your clothing, and wait there for me."
She hears Alex's voice cautiously speaking to Tomas as she ascends the stairs woodenly. "You seem... unwell, Tomas. Do you want to sit down? I can go speak to our omega for you while you take a moment to centre yourself."
Tomas snaps in response, not even attempting to lower his voice. "I am unwell. You didn't see that place, neither of you did. She is ours. How could we not have known she was living there? Have you even seen the bar she works at?"
She doesn't hear either of their responses as she reaches the top of the stairs and walks slowly to Tomas' bedroom, more dread pooling in her stomach with each step.
She strips out of her leggings and t-shirt, carefully folding them and placing them on his dresser, before stripping out of her underwear and tucking them beneath the pile.
Tomas follows her into the room a moment later, with Silas and Alex trailing behind him. Their eyes immediately find her, hungrily tracing over her nude form, even while Silas and Alex look concerned.
"You have withheld important information from us. You have unnecessarily placed yourself in danger. This is unacceptable to me. I will spank you ten times as a lesson to remind you that you are not to keep things from us. Kneel on the bed." Tomas' voice is hard. Harder than it ever has been before.
Charlotte blanches, tears welling back in her eyes.
"You may cry if you need to," Tomas says, his voice losing a small bit of its icy edge.
She slowly inches towards the bed, climbing onto it hesitantly and settling herself on her hands and knees as instructed. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Alex following her, settling himself in the middle of the bed so her face is right in front of his lap, silently offering his support.
Tomas approaches them until she can feel the heat of his body near her, hovering just behind her, but he doesn't touch her.
"Count each stroke," he says. And then his hand connects with her ass in a loud smack, and this isn't some playful or sexy swat.
It hurts. Actually hurts. She barely restrains the scream from her mouth, a strangled sound instead coming from the back of her throat.
She's breathing hard and reeling from the sharp pain that quickly turns into a burn that dances across her skin.
"Count it, Charlotte," Tomas orders again. He sounds distant, his voice almost sounds unfamiliar, like this is a different Tomas altogether.
She feels tears well in her eyes that he would be so angry with her, that she had messed up so badly to make him this upset. Her body fills with shame and contrition, and she feels herself submit to him, her head resting on the bed in surrender.
Alex's hand reaches out to stroke her hair softly. He's not teasing her now, his voice instead turned quiet and soothing. "You can do it, baby girl. Count it out. That was one."
She takes a deep shuddering breath and then speaks in a shaky voice. "O-One, sir."
"Good," Tomas responds. He hits her again, this time on the other cheek with a crack that sounds like a gunshot.
It's no gentler, and this time she tenses in anticipation of it.
It hurts even more. She does scream this time, a short shriek she quickly cuts off as she catches her breath.
She doesn't need Alex's coaching this time. "T-two, s-sir."
"You're doing beautifully, baby. You can do it," Alex encourages, and his hand strokes her head once more. She nuzzles her face into his palm before he returns it to his lap.
Smack! "Three, sir," she hiccups. Her entire ass is on fire now, tears freely flowing down her cheeks as the pain and shame consume her.
By the time they finish, Charlotte is reduced to sobbing out a barely distinguishable "t-t-ten, sir" as Tomas delivers the last blow. Her face is buried in Alex's hand now and he is rumbling out a soothing purr for her, his other hand cupping the back of her head.
"Now," Tomas says, and his voice has softened ever so slightly.
She startles as she feels him press his hips against her ass. He's clothed, but she can clearly feel the hard line of his cock against her burning skin.
"I am going to fuck you. You may not come. If Alex or Silas want to use your tight holes too, they may, but you may not come for them either. Perhaps this will remind you that you are ours, Charlotte."
She hears him adjusting his pants, and then the broad head of him is pressed against her entrance. She whines when she realizes that she is already soaking for him.
He presses the tip of his cock inside of her and she whines again, needier this time. He is almost tentative in the way he eases himself inside of her, as if careful not to truly harm her, no matter how angry he was with her.
"And now," he says, his voice even, as if he wasn't fucking her in punishment, as if he wasn't filling her out with the impossibly broad length of his cock until she feels like she might burst from it. "Let's talk about your new rules."
She squeaks a little in surprise as he thrusts another few inches inside of her, his hips rocking gently as he fucks himself deeper.